I wrote this poem the day after my last infusion which was exactly two weeks ago. I am called to post it for its honesty and presence and for all of the people...patients, friends, caregivers, nurses, doctors, volunteers who have spent time in this interesting place.
The last drip
In that final
Clear drip from
The bag contained
The entirety of
My experience in
This infusion room.
This ground that,
At times felt
Carnal and, at
Times felt full
Of life. The
Man and his
Son talking about
Stocks and my
Interpretation of these
Beings working so
Hard to find
Normalcy and common
Ground and this
Same man, I
Saw him a
Number of times,
Deteriorating before my
Eyes and my
Own fear, "am
I too? No, no
I am not
Sick." The denial
Or perhaps the
Deepest truth or
Somehow both in
This room where
The nurses are
Sometimes nearly giddy
As they walk
Briskly with large
Bags of chemicals
For humans; sometimes
Were they dancing?
I fell in
Love with some
Of these nurses,
You know the
Kind of love
I mean perhaps.
A closeness that
Seems to come
From thin air
But that undoubtedly
Comes from the
Core human longing
For connection wherever
We find ourselves.
I remember looking
Into the eyes
Of one of
These nurses as
She pumped medicine
Into my body-
A three minute journey-
And I saw
That she was
Also my dear
Friend; that her
Eyes were the
Eyes of everyone
And, don't get
Me wrong, Jimmy
Fallon helped me
Laugh and Natalie
Merchant brought me
Peace and inspiration
And my dear
Matt sitting across
From me, well,
He gave me
Perhaps the ultimate
Gift of stick-
With-it-ness
And the volunteers
In their bright
Red coats floating
Through the crowded
Recliners softly offering
Massages and Reiki
Never did I
Decline these opportunities
For human touch
And healing, doing
My best to
Open to their
Love and tenderness
And the woman
And her daughter
And the man
And his friend
All there around
Me. All there
In this the
Final sacred drip.
